


Why We Fell: Life in the Year 333 Post-Apocalypse

by JoeBass3122



Series: Why We Fell: Life in the Year 333 Post-Apocalypse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Politics, Apocalypse, Constructed Language, Culture, Female Protagonist, Foreign Language, Gen, Good and Evil, Languages and Linguistics, Moral Ambiguity, Nonbinary Character, Original Fiction, Post-Apocalypse, conlang, invented language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeBass3122/pseuds/JoeBass3122
Summary: By all standards, one could argue that the Apocalypse has already come and gone. At least that is what the people of the year 333 PA (Post-Apocalypse) believe. It could hardly get worse could it? Cities were pulverized by nukes and ICBMs, entire regions irradiated. The human population bottle-necked to a few handful survivors. But Nature, indomitable as ever, survived. And along with it, the human race. Now, 300 years later, it is time to rebuild. But dark forces threaten this tenuous foothold. Will we learn the lessons of our past? Or will they be forgotten, thus dooming us to a final, and permanent End?





	1. Анванган-The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Author Note :: This is an ongoing work and is subject to editing/changes. Obviously, these changes should be for the better, but don't hesitate to call out anything that seems unnecessary.  
> Another Note :: Chapters will be posted roughly every two weeks, perhaps more frequently if my schedule allows it. That being said, I could also post /less/ frequently, as my schedule is fucky  
> A Final and VERY IMPORTANT Note :: The language used by the characters is called Navostoske, which is a guess at how language evolves in a future where Germanic and Slavic languages mix. This is a dialect, spoken in the East, of the main language Tyske. There will be many Navostoske or Tyske words, and translations will be provided for the first instances of each word. Comment if a full dictionary is needed, I can include translations at the end of chapters,

When the world began to end, it began quietly. Declarations of war were signed behind closed doors in the darkest hours of the night. Borders silently closed and when the people awoke, they awoke to a divided world and a harsh new reality.

Nothing would be the same. Everything had changed.

Wars were fought. The poor were drafted while the rich looked on. It was a perfectly normal war, like all the ones that had led up to this point, just this time the whole world lost. For the first and perhaps the last time, nuclear war had been waged.

In just a matter of hours, the arsenals of the world were emptied. Entire cities, flattened as their inhabitants perished in the ensuing nuclear firestorms. What the nukes didn’t reach, ICBMs beat into submission. Side by side the rich, the poor, and the politicians that had signed those declarations of war died as equals. A war fought mostly by computers cared little for class distinctions.

Those who thought they were lucky by living in the country sides were soon blanketed by the clouds of radioactive ash brought by an uncaring wind. Crops died and what did grow was poisonous and stunted. Sickness spread.

Time passed and the remaining vestiges of humanity banded together, this time to fight for survival. Once masters of the world, the world once more had mastery over them. As the world began to heal from the nuclear onslaught, the survivors swore to learn from the pride and arrogance of their forefathers.

Nothing would be the same. It was time for a change.

Three centuries since, life is once more flourishing. The year is 333 PA (Post-Apocalypse). The earth is green once more, the skies finally clear. Plants and animals are thriving, as if to spite the destruction Humanity had wrought. Vast plains and valleys filled with life, Nature reclaiming her place as Queen on this Earth.

Humanity remains. Like an infection it returns from the brink. There are few cities, and the towns are distant. Small nuclei of Humanity, scattered. Afraid.

Trust is a rare commodity in these days. Hope, still rarer. Survival is all that matters now. The walls surrounding the villages are tiny compared to the walls around people’s hearts.

In the year 296 PA a king from the South rose to power. Not a great and benevolent king, rather a king of violence, cruelty, and power. Under his banner he united all the great Raider clans. For a time, they contented themselves with maintaining the borders of the Kingdom. Then in 301 they began their campaign to expand the borders.

A resistance group known as the Rodinyerani arose to defend their countrymen. Comprised of farmers and townsfolk, they began to push back against the King's advances. They organised supply lines and taught their people to fight. For the first time, villages that had never been in contact rose against a common enemy.

The battle of 300 PA was the Rodinyerani's Last Stand. In this battle, the King himself fought. Described by survivors as some terrifying presence that struck paralyzing fear into the hearts of lesser men, he fought with animalistic rage. Few stood against him, and none could withstand him. It was a devastating loss. The Rodinyerani faded into the shadows, leaderless, and hopeless. The villages they had once defended were crushed, survivors enslaved or worse.  Since then there was no more resistance.

Nothing would be the same. But nothing had ever changed.


	2. Зиmасонан-Hibernation

Darkness. Cold. A flash of lightning. Blinding light. A peal of thunder. Deafening sound. The weight of snow on her chest. Breathing. Choking. Gasping. Light. A Breeze.

From the snow a pale hand appeared. Then an arm. Then a face. Struggling to dig herself from the snow. The cold wind stinging her face and lungs told her she was alive.

Finally, free, she rested. The wind blasted snow and blew her long blonde hair over her face. Blinking, she ran her hands over her face to clear her view. She felt something tug at her memory but she didn’t know what. Opening her eyes, she found herself in a snowbank. Grey trees swayed in the wind, branches bare. The sky itself was dark grey. In the distance she saw light, a warm light. Warmth. She felt drawn to it.

Like a moth, she made her way towards the light, her flame. As she came closer, she saw that it was many lights. She shivered as the wind blasted, frozen fingers stinging in the cold. She stumbled over a hidden tree root and fell into the snow, once again. The lights flickered invitingly, so close, and so far away. A brief memory of something comforting flashed though her mind, some distant past. _I must get there_ , she thought, _I have to_.

Stumbling to her feet once more, she made her way to the lights. She drew nearer, and saw that it was a village. Dark figures flitted from light to light. There was a wall around the village through which the campfires shone. She was close enough to touch lower portions of the wall now. It was no proper wall, she could see, it had been fashioned out of old pieces of scrap and wood stacked precariously upon themselves. Even so, it towered above her. And it looked extremely old.

There was no way in from this side, so she followed the wall, stumbling, leaning against portions of it for support. She was tired, her limbs moving of their own accord, eyelids heavy. Like a sleepwalker she followed the edge of the wall until it stopped.

She stumbled through the opening, the nearest campfire her only focus. Light. Warmth. So close. A figure stepped in front of her, she faltered, then fell back into darkness.


	3. Девоскан-The Girl

The next morning, news of the village’s strange visitor had spread to every house. Who was she? They asked. Where did she come from? And how did she manage to just walk in?

The last question was the most easily answered. The boy at the guard post had fallen asleep that night on guard duty, and was quickly reprimanded. What if she had been a raiding party?! They admonished. The first two questions would prove to be much harder to answer.

She slept for the first day, and for the second. She awoke on the third.

Medikan Petrova had been the village doctor since she inherited the post of Medikan, or Doctor, from her father. She had been much younger then, and she had seen much since. But she had never seen anyone like the Girl.

Young, blonde, plain. A little weak but physically very normal. But the way she was dressed reminded her of the old pictures her great grandfather had passed down, of the old world. But that was just some silly thought. Still she had a closer look at the clothes when she had to change the Girl into some Petrova's own dry clothes. On the hem of the Girl’s shirt a name was written “Kasandra”. Perhaps that was the Girl’s name.


	4. Вад и Наmан?-What's in a Name?

When the Girl awoke, she found herself in a bed. The itchy woolen blankets scratched against her skin and she felt quite warm. She saw that a small gas stove was nearby on the other wall. Nearby it, sat an old woman in a rocking chair. She was dozing off, it seemed.

She was dressed in simple, handmade clothing. The same that the Girl found herself wearing. The Girl sat up and bumped her head on the low roof. The sudden noise woke the old woman up with a start. She relaxed as soon as she saw the Girl.

“You’re awake, thank the lords!”, The old woman pronounced. She came over and looked her over, “You look alright, are you hungry?”.

The Girl nodded, and the older woman busied herself with the small stove. Upon it was a small pot and the woman poured what appeared to be a soup into a small bowl. She then cut a piece of a small flat loaf and handed it, along with the soup, to the girl.

She waited while the Girl ate. The Girl was ravenous and finished both bread and soup in minutes. Med. Petrova cut another bit of bread and poured out more soup. The Girl ate more slowly this time but appeared to enjoy the food.

“What should I call you? Do you have a name, dear?” The Woman asked her.

The Girl thought for a second. Then a minute. Then longer. No matter what, her mind was blank. She felt her heart race, what was her name?! She had to have one, right?

Med. Petrova noticed the Girl’s panic. “Kasandra?”, she ventured. She received no response. She thought for a moment then tried the local diminutive for ‘Kasandra’.

“Kasya?”, she asked.

The Girl looked up. Yes. Kasya. That felt right. “Kasya”, she said.

“My name is Lilia Petrova” The old woman said, “But most people just call me ‘Med’, it's short for "Medikan" because I'm a doctor. You must be a long way from home, where are you from? Your parents must be worried”.

Kasya thought again. But her memory still came up blank. “I don’t know”. She saw that Med looked concerned and she felt tears come up, “I’m sorry, I just can’t remember”, she started to cry, “I can’t remember anything!”


	5. Chapter 5

She was right, Med. Petrova soon learned. When questioned about where she came from, who she was, or who she knew, Kasya’s face would go blank and she would answer with an “I don’t remember”. Petrova had heard of amnesia before, but never in her life did she think she’d have an actual case on her hands. This was far too advanced a case for her to do much, she conceded.

The memory loss wasn’t just confined to Kasya’s memory of herself or where she came from. Kasya didn’t even know what year it was or where she was. She hardly even knew the language. What she did know was heavily accented and difficult to understand.

“It’s like she was born yesterday. That’s how much she knows, she seems intelligent but she knows absolutely nothing” Petrova confided to the barkeeper in the town’s only bar.

“I know a guy, who has a cousin, whose father had amnesha. Said he remember nothin’ till few days later. Give the girl some time, she’ll remember somethin’”.

          Days passed, yet Kasya remembered nothing. As the days turned to weeks, the villagers questioned Med. on why Kasya was still there. She was freeloading, they said. So, Med. did what she had to do. She offered Kasya a job as her apprentice.

          Can’t be freeloading if she works, Med. explained.

          Kasya took to the job like a fish to water. After being taught to read (her first lesson), Kasya spent much of her off time devouring Med Petrova’s old medical textbooks. They had been passed down from the original Med. Petrov, all the way back in the pre-apocalyptic world. They were yellowed and worn, the only ones left of their kind, relics of a past age. In the margins were notes from older generation, translating the works into more current terms. Kasya treated them with almost reverence, carefully turning their pages, studying them as if to commit the entirety to memory. And when she was done, she would carefully close them, and place them ceremoniously onto their plain shelf, her altar.

          It took time, but as Kasya spent more time in the village, the village folk began to trust her more. It certainly helped that she saved many of their lives by patching them up, but there was a certain something about her that made the people feel comfortable around her. They even gave her a nickname, “Devoskan Zima”, meaning “Daughter Winter”, a reference to her apparent birth from the snow. Oftentimes it would be shortened to “Zimaska”, just meaning “Winter”.

          “It’s like she knows exactly what to say sometimes. Other times she’s just so innocent you just wanna give her a hug”, a local seamstress opined.

          “She is certainly something”, Med. Petrova told them. “Certainly something”.


	6. Авскидани-The Goodbyes

Kasya learned quickly, and Petrova felt she had made a great choice about her successor. Petrova had never had any children of her own, her husband died before they could discuss the matter. After his death she had thrown herself into her work, determined to be a better Doctor than ever. Now, almost 30 years later, 30 years of worrying that her trade would die with her, she had Kasya. In a way, Kasya reminded her of herself, when she was her age, so hopeful, so determined, but so innocent. A heart open to the world. So, Petrova did what she could to keep the world from hurting it.

          Even then, Med Petrova could see that Kasya was growing restless, she wanted to see more. She would often talk about travelling to some of the neighboring villages to offer their services to those in need. She would talk about finding someone who knew who she was, where she came from. She had to have come from somewhere nearby, right?

Kasya made good points but Petrova had to remind her often, that outside the village it was dangerous. It’s safer to stay, she could send someone out to ask around instead, in a month or so, when there was less work, she promised.

A month turned into two months, two into four. Kasya asked frequently at first, then less so, to not at all. Med Petrova was pleased to see she had settled into the village life, Kasya would be safe here, even when Petrova herself was gone. After all, the village loved her.

But Kasya had not forgotten Med Petrova’s promise. She was disappointed that Petrova had forgotten, but she _had_ to keep it, right? She’d just forgotten. She would often lie awake thinking about who she could’ve been before she woke up in the snow.

Was she a farmer’s daughter, run away? Had she been travelling with a bunch of merchants and had been left behind by accident? She felt a part of her was somewhere out there, waiting to be found. She just had to find it.

So, it came as a surprise, to everyone but Kasya, when, half a year after she was found, she asked Med Petrova if she could leave the village, to find out who she was. Petrova knew that even if she said ‘no’, Kasya would leave anyways. She felt her heart break a second time at the thought of _her_ Kasya, out in the wilds alone. No, not alone, she knew a friend, from the war. He could help.

So, Kasya left the village with Med Petrova’s blessing and set out on the first step of her quest.


End file.
